


Orgins of X

by ilovelegendsalot



Series: Red X [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Teen Titans (Animated Series), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: Anger, Angst, Blood and Violence, Chapter 2 is more lighthearted, Death, Gen, Humor, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Torture, Imprisonment, Jason Todd is Red X, Lazarus Pit, The violence really isn't that bad, swearing because jason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-09-15 06:43:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16928400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovelegendsalot/pseuds/ilovelegendsalot
Summary: Jason died.  Jason was killed.  Now he's back.  But not in a way he ever would have wanted.  And he's none too happy about it.  What path will he choose now?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter takes place before the first episode, but after the Teen Titans formed their team. I’ve only seen a few Jason is Red X fics, but they usually don’t say when Jason died or they say he died when the Titans went to Tamaran and fought Blackfire. I have a few reasons for not placing Jason’s death then that will be explained in my fic.
> 
> Also, in this version of events Jason was not resurrected through the Lazarus Pit or Superboy punching reality or whatever that silliness was. I think the Superboy thing is a lame and contrived excuse. The Lazarus Pit makes more sense, but then you lose the whole digging out of his own grave part, which is horrifying for him, but a great story and character point. In this, he was thrown into the Pit only to restore his mind. I won’t say how he was resurrected. I do know how, but I want to keep it a secret. Depending on how things go, it will either come up in a future story, or I will just tell you.

This could be his last chance.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew Ra’s was running out of patience with him. That his life was hanging by a thread.

The pit had erased whatever it was that brought him back, so Ra’s couldn’t play mad scientist on him anymore. He was no longer useful on that front. He couldn’t truly recall the experiments he’d been subjected to, but sometimes he’d get these flashes and there were certain nightmares whose origins he couldn’t explain. So that was good. It was the only thing that was good.

This place was hell. 

Ra’s was finally seeming to catch on to the fact that he would never bow to him. No matter what he did, no matter how horrible, no matter how much it hurt. Jason Todd bowed to no one. 

A shiver past through his battered body as he lay on the cold floor of his dark cell. The room had once had a cot in it, but even that had been removed at his continued rebellion. Whatever. He’d slept on worse.

What really put him on edge was how fuckin cramped it was. It was a square cell and when he lay down he had less than a foot of space on each side. God, he hated tight spaces. If it had been even a foot smaller, Jason knew he wouldn’t have been able to stand it. He could sometimes feel the walls close in around him as it was.

He opened his eyes a crack, as pointless as that action was, and slid them over to where he knew the door was located, wondering who was on sentry duty. The chick with a needle fetish? The sicko with the knives? The fucker whose eyes lit up like a Christmas tree every time he was the one chosen to dispense another beating? Maybe someone who had nothing to do with his never-ending torture at all and was simply ordered to guard a door? Who it was didn’t really matter though. 

But of course, he couldn’t see anything anyway, not even his own hand, much less whoever was standing outside, so he once again closed his eyes. It was easier to pretend it wasn’t eternally pitch black in here if he kept his eyes shut.

He’d been careful. They’d been careless. They’d assumed his latest punishment had left him too weak, too broken to try anything. They’d just tossed him back into his prison with barely a glance and a snicker. 

No one had noticed when he smuggled away a pen. Nor had anyone realized he’d snagged a hairpin from the female assassin they’d had him sparring (aka death match) against yesterday. Not the most ideal tools, but it would be enough. He’d already used the pin to pick the lock on his chains.

So the plan was going great so far.

Ra’s had left the facility, probably off blowing up orphanages for the _greater good_. Talia wasn’t here either. And they’d taken their elite guard with them. That left only one seriously dangerous threat to contend with. He wasn’t sure how long he had before they returned, so he had to act sooner than later. Ra’s might even order his death from afar, though he suspected Ra’s would want to be there to witness it if not do it himself. Show the consequences of not being a mindless tool or some crap like that. This could be his last chance.

He couldn’t die now. Not after coming back and suffering through all this. All the shocks and burns he’d endured. All the cuttings that had scarred his body. All the drugs they’d pumped him full of that left him in agonizing pain. All the beatings that had left him broken and bruised. All the phycological torture. It couldn’t all be for nothing. He couldn’t die with no one even knowing he’d ever returned. No one knowing he was here. He couldn’t die without revenge.

Jason swallowed the bile that prematurely rose up his throat. He’d thought they’d been lying when they first told him. That it was Ra’s’ desperate attempt to turn him against Batman. As if the old fucker thought just because he hated Batman he’d serve Ra’s. He’d actually laughed much to Ra’s displeasure.

They hadn’t been lying.

The headlines were burned into his retinas. **Joker Returned to Arkham. Madman Back Behind Bars. 22 Victims So Far in the Joker’s Latest Mad Scheme.** The photos accompanying them had torn at Jason’s soul.

He’d stared at those damning articles with unseeing eyes as the horror and utter disbelief washed over him causing a sharp pain in his heart. What he saw instead was everything he’d ever thought he had and everything he’d ever thought he knew slipping away, leaving a gaping void in its place, and his whole world had come crashing down around him. The anguish was worse than anything he had suffered before, not even his mother’s death had hurt him like this. 

He’d cried. 

The tears hadn’t lasted long and that void had quickly been filled with bitterness and righteous anger, overriding his sadness, and he’d experienced an all-consuming rage unlike anything he’d ever felt. He’d torn the room apart, destroying everything and killing two of the guards who’d been stupid enough to provoke him, though that part was a little hazy. 

_Why_?

A green tinge appeared at the edges of the darkness around him, even though his eyes were still shut. Bruce hadn’t killed the Joker. He’d let his murderer walk, free to roam the earth as he pleased. Not only had the bastard not killed the madman, but he’d let the Joker escape _again_ and kill _even more_ people, destroy _even more_ lives, and then still, still only escorted him back to Hotel Arkham. If their roles had been reversed, if it had been Bruce that he’d beat to a bloody pulp, if he had taken him from this world, he would've done nothing but search the planet for that pathetic pile of evil, death-worshiping garbage and then send him off to hell! But Bruce had done nothing. _Nothing_.

Rage coursed through him, causing him to literally tremble with anger. It was an insult to all the people- no, it was a crime against life itself. Because Batman hadn’t killed Joker, all the blood that stained the clown’s hands stained his as well. It was his fault. He was wrong and everything was his fault.

Jason let out a steadying breath, but not too steadying. He knew that he had to hold onto his anger if he wanted to get out of this hellhole alive. The pit would make him stronger and as much as he hated relying on it, he had to use everything of what little he had at his disposal. Lucky for him, anger was easy.

He was going to escape this place or die trying. He refused to die a victim and he wasn’t going to go quietly.

His blood pounded in his veins and the green tinge grew darker around him as he positioned himself on the floor. He moved so that he was facing the door, careful to make it look like the chains on his hands and feet were still in place.

Gathering himself, Jason took one more breath.

Then proceeded to start throwing up. Loudly.

Some might say it’s gross, but being able to hurl on demand was an incredibly useful skill in many situations. He didn’t have much to work with since they were barely feeding him anymore, but it was enough.

There was a _click_ and the sliding hatch on the door opened, letting in a dim, but still blinding light.

The eyes looking through the slot were cold. The man didn’t say anything as Jason began to dry-heave, his stomach completely empty. 

Jason wasn’t so stupid as to think the guard was going to enter the cell out of concern for him. Oh no, only a fool would think that. However, he’d become the most hated person in the complex or mansion (he wasn’t actually sure where or what this place was). They absolutely despised him. These losers got so offended when you dissed their precious master and he’d been very open and articulate with his opinions of the guards. And with their master gone, many of the assassins had begun to be a little negligent with certain prisoner protocols.

He probably could have just yelled insults until the guy snapped, but puking came across as weak and vulnerable and it gave him a much higher chance of getting the guard to enter the cell. Really these freaks would take any excuse to beat and belittle him, but appearing weak would get them overconfident. More willing to come a little closer. 

This guard was no different from the others.

The door opened with a _thud_ and the guard (he vaguely recognized him as one of the assassins who helped prep the torture drugs) stood in the doorway, an arrogant smirk on his face that had no right to be there. He was one of those average assassins, in better shape than most people, but nothing special. A dime a dozen and he imagined himself to be above Jason. It was laughable how expendable he was. 

Jason stopped retching, panting heavily. “What’re you looking at, asshole?” he wheezed, keeping his voice weak, but still full of venom. 

He’d had a full list, practically a speech, prepared to provoke this idiot. It all went to waste though. Maybe he’d been having a shit day. Maybe he just _really_ hated Jason’s guts. Or maybe he was just hilariously insecure. Whatever the case, one insult was all it took for the guy to step fully into the room. He was actually disappointed it hadn’t taken more. He’d thought up some real zingers and now he didn’t even get to use them.

The kick to the gut was quick and sharp, knocking out what little breath he had in him. It hurt, but he took it, careful not to move too much and give away he wasn’t restrained. The pain didn’t last long, the anger the action invoked dulling it almost immediately. He wasn’t going to regret offing this bastard, not one bit. His fingers were itching to do the deed.

“You should know your place, you disrespectful little swine,” nameless guard snarled. Was he even trying? The thug leaned down and roughly grabbed Jason by the back of his neck, probably to shove his face into his own vomit. Wouldn’t be the first time. This guy really just had no creativity.

He never got the chance. 

The speed with which Jason struck was almost inhuman. He twisted in the man’s grip like a snake and plunged the pen deep into soft flesh at the unarmored part of the neck. So deep it almost come out the other side.

There was a beat of shocked silence, then Jason jerked the pen back out. A fountain of blood spurted out, spraying over Jason’s face. He ignored it.

The guard’s eyes were wide with shock and his skin had gone unnaturally pale. He let out a few guttural chokes and Jason could feel his hand quivering against his neck. Then, as if strings had been cut, the once arrogant man slumped over. Dead. Dead dead dead dead dead.

Jason smiled widely.

The itch from before got worse, which didn’t make much sense since the guy was already dead. He couldn’t stop smiling for some reason, even as some of the blood slipped down his face and stained his teeth. As the smell of it wafted around him he found himself wishing he could kill the piece of shit more. That he could stab him over and over again. Could hurt him like he’d hurt Jason. Could tear the flesh right off him, peel it from his bones. Was there whispering? He thought someone might be whispering. He could swear that there was whispering. But there wasn’t, right? Right?

Focus. He had to focus. Escape. Get out. Move. Weapons. The body had weapons.

Jason shook his head violently and the green receded a little. His legs were shaky from adrenalin as he picked himself off the floor, finally ridding himself fully of his shackles. Swiping his sleeve across his face to remove some of the excess of the scarlet substance sticking to his skin, he moved over to search the body.

The guy had the typical assassin knives and katana. Not the most exciting, but certainly a hell of a lot better than what he had now. He also took the man’s walkie-talky (Ra’s was seriously behind the times) and his melodramatic assassin cloak.

It was a bit risky taking the device, but he could always trash it if it became a liability. Keeping it would allow him to track his enemies’ movements to some degree and if they attempted to contact the guard for a check-in he could try to fake one. Even if he couldn’t mimic an affirmation, it would at least give him a heads up before everything went to shit. 

The cloak he took as a disguise.

Jason ran a finger over the filthy rags he’d been forced to wear during his imprisonment. They’d been white when he first got them. It had stood out against the darker colors habitually worn by the assassins, like a sheep among wolves, and it had made it impossible to miss when Jason started to bleed. Now those clothes were grimy and torn and the white had degraded into a collage of red, grey, and even black in some places. There wasn’t a speck of white left. He couldn’t even remember what clean clothes felt like anymore.

The cloak was still darker though and Jason was pretty sure it was night right now. He did his best to keep track of time, but it was difficult without the sky (God, he missed the sky) or a clock and they usually didn’t tell him how long he’s been out after being struck unconscious during training or a punishment or even just from pain. He didn’t even know for sure what time of year it was which complicated estimating the daily cycles. The latest date he’d seen on the newspaper clippings was seven months after his death, but who knew how old those were. Even his own age was a mystery to him. Jason knew he had grown significantly and that his appearance had changed in some strange ways. He’d never been given a mirror, but his hair was long enough that he could see the yet to be explained white streak in his bangs and through various reflective surfaces he’d gathered that his once pure blue eyes now had a foreboding hint of green to them. Jason honestly didn’t give one fuck about what he looked like. He just needed to get the hell out and his appearance wouldn’t affect that outcome. 

While the cloak wouldn’t fool anyone up close, it might work at a distance. It was a bit big though. Not wanting to waste any time, Jason tore off part of the bottom so it would fit him right. It was surprisingly sturdy material and took more effort than it should have, but failing to escape because he’d tripped over himself was not something that was going to happen.

With quick movements, Jason secured the weapons to his body and threw the cloak on overtop. Then he shoved the body into the corner next to the door, out of view of the hatch. The blood had ended up almost solely on Jason, so he didn’t need to worry about cleaning up. Not that it would have been easy to see against the blood streaked floor anyway. He used the piece he’d torn from the cloak to wipe himself off so he wasn’t leaving a dripping tail then threw the cloth into the corner with the body.

The key was in one of the body’s belt pockets. Jason grabbed it and left the room, an exhilarating thrill of excitement and apprehension surging through him as he passed over the threshold to the first step towards freedom. He closed the cell door and relocked it. It wouldn’t fool anyone for long, maybe confuse them for a minute or two, but every second counted.

Jason moved down the hallways as stealthily as the ghost he might very well be. People don’t just come back to life after all. The dead aren’t supposed to come back, yet here he was. Deep, deep down there was a small part of him that feared that if he made it out of here and exposed himself to the light of the outside world, he’d fade away like an apparition. That to him was more plausible than a seemingly miraculous resurrection. It was a fear Jason refused to acknowledge.

As he past the other cells Jason noted that they were all empty. Good, less prisoners meant less guards. He’d assumed he was the only prisoner, he’d never seen anyone more obviously imprisoned than the slaves Ra’s had already employed and he’d never heard talk of others being incarcerated here. Maybe this was one of Ra’s house’s after all. It seemed like a league hideout would have a few more captives than just him. They weren’t known for being a forgiving bunch.

Well didn’t he just feel so special.

All his senses were cranked to eleven as he made his way through the dimly lit labyrinth that had been his world for the past many months. Fortunately, Ra’s was stuck in the past, so his tech didn’t pose as big of a threat as it might have. The security and surveillance equipment was there, but Jason had dealt with far worse in the past. He was able to avoid it without much difficulty. 

The tech was lousy, but that didn’t make sneaking around easy. Usually in these types of situations you could listen for approaching threats. Footsteps, breathing, talking. But these were ninjas he was dealing with, and any ninja worth a damn could move around silently, even when not consciously trying. 

Every corner he came to, he had to press against the wall and strain his ears for any sign of movement. Even when he didn’t hear anything it was always a gamble when he peeked around the corner. Not to mention any of the doors lining the hallway could open at any time and there was nowhere to hide in the barren corridors. No cover and though Jason was confident he could take any of the second rates Ra’s had left behind even in his somewhat pitiful state, he couldn’t risk them getting out a warning to the rest of the league.

There had been a couple uncomfortably close calls. 

The first time was with a pair of assassins who had been jabbering about their insane training regiments, giving away their approach. Jason had been able to backtrack down the hallway and duck down the neighboring passageway. They’d gone down the opposite hall and he had continued undetected. 

The second incident had been a much tenser endeavor. He’d been hurrying down one of those god-awful halls that seemed to stretch on forever and had been about halfway through when one of the doors in front of him opened. The door had separated him from whoever was exiting the room, so he hadn’t been immediately spotted. Heart-racing, Jason had opened the nearest door and slipped in without even checking the room first. It was luck more than anything that the room happened to be empty. It had appeared to be for training but had contained nothing of use, they didn’t store the weapons or armor there. After a few far too long minutes, he’d snuck a look out the door and finding the coast to be clear, had fled up and out of the horror movie hallway as quickly and quietly as possible.

Jason turned yet another corner to be met with yet another dead end. Crap. His anxiety levels spiked. He couldn’t just keep wandering around aimlessly, hoping he’d stumble onto the exit before someone found him or they realized he had escaped. What he wouldn’t do for a map. His knowledge of the layout of this place was shaky at best. It’s hard to learn your way around a place when you’re always either blindfolded or unconscious. They’d kept him in the dark as much as possible. The way out was definitely up though, he knew that for a fact.

So up it was.

If only it was that easy.

None of the staircases he found went up more than one floor. And once he went up a flight of stairs he had to search around in those horribly exposed hallways until he found another one in a place that made no sense for accessibility. There was likely an elevator that went to all the floors somewhere, but Jason never found it and it was probably crawling with guards anyway.

His luck didn’t last, of course, because it never did and nothing was ever easy. As skilled as he was, it was honestly a miracle he’d made it so far so smoothly. There’d been issues, but for a while no one was alerted to his absence and he’d been able to elude the assassins with zero confrontation. He’d managed to sneak his way up two floors before everything started going to shit.

Jason merely winced as the alarms started blaring from every side, unlike his heart which jumped so hard it must have bruised his ribcage. The chatter on the walkie talky confirmed that his escape had been discovered. They were going into lockdown and Jason hadn’t even reached a floor that offered a possible escape.

He fought down the panic threatening to overtake him. Panicking never helped no one. But fuck, the wailing alarms set his nerves even more on edge and his blood started pounding again. He gritted his teeth as he turned and shot down the hallway to his left, forgoing some of his caution for speed. He was so close! Desperation clawed at his insides and the green that was starting to impair his vision was no help.

So when he rounded the corner to find himself facing one of the guards, Jason didn’t hesitate to attack. He recognized the man, he was one of the regulars for his beatings, the one who’d broken at least a dozen of his ribs on separate occasions. Broken ribs were a bitch. Rage swelled within him like a caged beast, rushing through his blood like it was about to explode.

The guard made to draw his weapon, but was a fraction too slow and Jason’s blade went straight through the man’s stomach. Again and again and again and again and again. All his thoughts bled away into a screaming green haze. Someone was screaming. 

Then suddenly the man was gone and Jason was somewhere else entirely. And he was running.

It was as disorienting as fuck and Jason jerked to a halt as he tried to piece together what the hell had just happened. He was breathing heavily from a physical exertion he couldn’t recall and his mind spun inside his head at the disconnect, causing a feeling of intense nausea. 

A moment to assess his surrounding revealed that he was in the hallway of some pompous looking house. Jason’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, though his panic abated somewhat. He was upstairs? How had he made it all the way up here? How much time was he missing? And why did he feel so wet?

The alarms were still blaring, but other than that there was no sound. No sign of pursuers. So… this was good, right?

Now that he had very vague idea of what was going on and he didn’t seem to be in immediate danger of dying, Jason stumbled forward a few steps to lean against an expensive looking dresser. He felt drained, like a crash after an adrenalin rush. 

Doing his best to ignore the exhaustion, Jason finally looked down at himself. Hmm, so that wet feeling was blood then. Made sense. He wasn’t hurt, was he? 

He did a quick check over his body, cataloguing his various wounds and any peculiarities. The worst was a fairly deep wound sliced in the flesh of his upper left arm. It was still bleeding steadily and a bluish-purple bruise was forming around it. Not good, but highly preferable to waking up with a broken leg or some other seriously hindering injury. Other than that though, there were only superficial cuts and some bruises. The blood that covered his body must have come mostly from other people. He must have fought well, no surprise there. One of his knives had disappeared and so had the walkie talkie.

Swearing quietly, he ripped the much frailer cloth that was his sleeve and wrapped it tightly around his arm to staunch the still bleeding wound. He hated not knowing what had happened, but he really didn’t have time to mull it over. He’d already wavered too long. He had no idea how long he’d blanked out, but it was definitely enough time for the entire facility to be hounding after him. Which meant _he_ was out there and if he found him now…

Raising his head again, he glimpsed something that made him freeze. Awestruck, he inhaled sharply and his heart fluttered in his chest as he gazed out the window before him that provided him a clear view of the cloudy night sky. He could see the sky. That alone was almost enough to make him weep for joy and his pulse started racing.

His previous fatigue was forgotten and he received a fresh burst of energy as he dashed forward. A single pane of glass was all that separated him from the outside world.

Jason prayed to God that the window was either unlocked, pickable, or breakable. It would be too cruel now to be so close yet unable to reach it. The room itself seemed unremarkable and Ra’s wouldn’t have made all his windows bulletproof no matter how rich he was. 

He was almost out!

That phrase repeated itself over and over again in his mind as he skidded to a halt in front the window. It was locked, but the lock was on the inside. His hands fumbled with the mechanism separating him from his freedom, the slippery blood coating his hands and his desperation to get outside making the task more challenging than it really was. 

The second he heard the _click_ he burst through the window, sucking in a huge breath of fresh air into his lungs as he did. Nothing had ever been so sweet.

It was raining. Not a big dramatic storm with booming thunder and flashing lightning that might seem more appropriate, but a gentle shower. The water felt cool against his face and the rain gave the air that sweet rain washed quality that he’d forgotten existed until just now. The blood saturating his clothes and covering his body began to slowly but surely wash away under the rain’s soft touch.

He easily could have stood there all night, savoring the feeling, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet and a hoard of angry assassins could show up to drag him back to the depths at any moment. No matter what, he wasn’t going back.

It was only a short jump to the ground, then he landed in a garden that reminded him of the one that had been kept on the manor grounds. Well-kept, lots of shrubbery, some flowers. He never took Ra’s for the gardening type, the ancient madman didn’t respect life in any form. Whole thing was probably just for show. 

There was a crashing sound in the distance that Jason quickly identified as waves crashing against a shore. He tilted his head in the sound’s direction. This wasn’t an island, was it? He’d swim if he had to. He didn’t want to head inland only to find out that this was an island and he’d trapped himself. It was his best bet, so he began to follow the noise to its source, keeping to the shadows of the shrubbery while staying wary for any sign of danger. 

The rain had its pros and cons, but the pros outweighed the cons. While it made it harder to hear and see any enemies, it also made it more difficult for them and since he was the one actively trying to hide it was more to his advantage. Having the blood washed away also meant he was no longer leaving a bloody trail. The rain might make moving around more difficult for some, but he was from Gotham. He knew how to deal with some fucking rain. A sunny day would have thrown him off more than rain would.

It took only minutes to transverse the gardens and reach what appeared to be the boundaries of the mansion’s grounds. 

And no one stopped him.

An uneasy feeling had been building within Jason the longer he went without any sign of pursuit and it only intensified when he slide into the rocky terrain by the cliffside. Because while he stood by his word that the lower tiered ninja were a sorry, pathetic lot, they were still _ninja_. They weren’t this inept. Why wasn’t the place swarming with overeager wannabes, each trying to be the first to catch him so that they could drag him back to Ra’s like a hunting dog would its latest catch? And he was pretty sure Ra’s would have some real guard dogs that could be tracking him down, where were they? It wasn’t like he’d vanished into the night without a trace. Before he’d made it outside, he’d been leaving a trail of blood that you’d have to literally be blind and have anosmia to miss it. They should be right at his heels and Jason should be having to fight for every inch of ground he gained.

But they weren’t.

It was almost like the place was abandoned and it set off Jason’s very healthy sense of paranoia. There was no sound except for the patter of rain, the crashing of waves, and the muffled wail of the alarms from behind him. No unnatural movement. Were they there and he just couldn’t see them? But why would they wait? Was he walking into a trap? Oh, who was he kidding, of course it was a trap. The question was what kind of trap and how could he avoid getting caught in it. He was practically to the edge of the cliff now, once he hit the water things would get a hell of a lot harder for them with this rain distorting the surface. Especially since most for the league used antiquated weapons. His goal was the water and he could figure things out from there. Ra’s wouldn’t have security sharks, would he? Didn’t seem like his thing.

Dread crept down his spine as he entered the rocky alcove that lay between him and the cliffside. If something was going to happen, it was going to happen now. The place looked like the universe had destined it for a fight, a natural arena made of rock, hidden away from the rest of the world.

Not even three steps in Jason sensed the newcomer’s presence. He steeled himself and turned to see the man he’d most wanted to avoid. The older man was just standing in the shadows to his left, an imposing figure and one Jason had no idea how to surpass.

Jason’s teachers had never lasted long. He’d usually tried to wait to kill them until he’d learned what they knew, but he couldn’t be expected not to kill some of the bastards prematurely. It was a testament to his self-control that he’d waited at all.

And Jason didn’t always kill them directly. If he seriously injured or crippled his current tutor, Ra’s would often have them executed for their failure. He had no idea how Ra’s got so fucking many idiots to devote their lives to him. They all had to be insane, brainwashed, or both. Likely both.

There was, however, one teacher he’d never been able to kill. No matter how hard he tried, no matter what trick he pulled, the man always screwed him over.

And that man now stood between him and his freedom.

Since the man made no move to do anything but stand threateningly in the shadows, Jason spoke first. “Called off the losers so you could take all the glory?” he sneered, turning to face his enemy fully. “Always the egomaniac.” 

Slade Wilson took a single step forward. Though the moonlight was dim, it was enough for Jason to get a better look at his nemesis. His face wasn’t hidden behind its usual mask and Jason wasn’t sure what that meant for him. He definitely came armed, though he didn’t see any guns on him. 

The man’s voice was deep and dark, though missing the ting his mask usually gave it. It was also far less hostile than he’d been expecting. “That isn’t quite what I had in mind.”

“Oh really.” Jason was very aware of how he must look to Slade. In his tattered, bloodstained clothes and his wet, greasy, too long hair and his black rimmed eyes. Even with the cloak hiding his wounds and his maltreated body, Slade knew what lay underneath. The only thing about him that didn’t look weak and pathetic was his straight back and unwavering eyes. “Then what, pray tell, is your plan here?”

Slade’s eyes roamed over Jason’s body, studying every inch, but not in a ‘what a pathetic creature’ sort of way. It was more of an appraising look, like he was a potential piece of equipment. Jason didn’t like it one bit and his glare intensified.

“You made quite the mess getting this far,” Slade noted. “Though I’m confident that had you not been in such a sorry state and had the proper tools, your escape would have been far more- elegant.” The assassin’s eyes slid smoothly up to meet Jason’s blue-green eyes. “I have a proposition for you, Jason Todd.”

Jason didn’t like where this was going, but he didn’t see any way out. Not without a fight he really didn’t like his chances of winning. He chose not to say anything. The rain and the waves were the only sounds to be heard.

Slade was unphased by his silence. “I have quite enjoyed being your mentor these past many months. I can’t tell you how many disappointments there have been over the years, but you- you have some grit. A rare strength in spirit that is to be admired. Already you have surpassed your fellow trainees, improving as much in a day as they do in many. But there must always be footmen, not everyone is meant for greatness.” 

“Gee, thanks,” Jason sneered sarcastically, “Your opinion’s always meant so much to me.” He definitely knew where this was going and he wasn’t having any of it.

The psycho’s lips twitched as he took a step forward. Jason didn’t retreat, but he kept a close eye on the man. “As insolent as your attitude is, there is much to be admired.” Condescending fucker. “You’re destined for greatness, Jason. As soon as you crawled from your grave it was clear.” There was a greedy glint in the man’s eyes as he reminded Jason of his mysterious and horrific return to life. “And beyond that you have potential. I can see it in you. A fighter. A warrior. Join me, be my apprentice, and let me help you reach your full potential.”

Despite the disastrous situation he was trapped in, Jason couldn’t stop the Darth Vader vibe he felt in that moment. The answer was no, of course. Never. Not in a million years. Being Slade’s apprentice would be just as bad as being Ra’s prisoner. Worse even. And there would be no fake promises that ended with him escaping later. Not with Slade.

He didn’t immediately refuse though.

“So what, you’re just going to take me away from Ra’s and the geyser’s going to be ‘A’ ok with you making off with one of his prisoners?”

“Ra’s is of no concern to me.” Someone thought highly of himself. 

“And what do you get out of an apprentice? There are plenty of idiots running around who would do your bidding. You lonely or something? Never got a girlfriend? No surprise there.” But really, why? What did Slade get out of having an apprentice besides an ego boost? And why choose him when there was dozens of Shadows who would literally kill to be taught by the great Deathstroke? 

“I have been looking for an apprentice for quite some time now. Someone to follow in my footsteps.” So a psychotic killer. And that wasn’t an answer. “And I’ve chosen you. Congratulations.” The way he said congratulations sounded like a threat than anything celebratory. 

It was a threat and Jason was running out of time.

Jason’s thoughts were racing as fast as his heartbeat. If Slade really wanted him for an apprentice, he was probably going to try to knock him out rather than cause serious damage. And it was going to happen regardless if his answer was yes or no. So how would Slade go about doing that? Physically? Gas? Injection? 

“Well, as great as that offer is,” Jason said, starting to reach for the katana beneath his cloak as slowly as possible so as to not give away what he was doing. “Your color scheme just isn’t my style. I mean what is that? Orange? Maybe a bronze?” This was going to be a think on your feet fight. Jason was good at those. He preferred being more prepared, but he could kick ass on the fly.

Strangely, Slade made no move to attack him, despite that he’d just rejected him and insulted his armor. The man’s eyes gained a vicious gleam. “What, and green, red, and yellow are?”

Jason couldn’t help the minute flinch and the hand not reaching for a weapon curled into a tight fist.

Slade smirked, and his next words cut like knives. “Where would you go, Jason? Batman has made it clear you mean nothing to him. And if you meant nothing to him then, do you think he’d accept you as you are now?” He gestured smoothly to Jason’s blood-stained cloak with one hand. 

It was still raining, Jason could feel it, but he couldn’t hear it past the blood roaring in his ears and the green buzz intensifying in the back of his brain. “What makes you think I’d want to go back to _him_?!” he snarled furiously. 

The approval in Slade’s eyes made him feel sick. “You have no reason at all. He wouldn’t even kill the madman who murdered you, despite the shamefully frequent opportunities he had to do so.” He paused for a moment to let that fact sink in. “Do you want revenge, Jason? Real justice?”

Jason’s eyes gave away everything. 

“I can help you get that revenge, Jason. It’s the least a mentor can do. The Joker has no place on this earth.”

Hearing his murder’s name spoken aloud only increased his anger, making his blood boil. How dare he imply he couldn’t get his revenge, his justice, by himself. Because he could. And he would. Both against Joker and _Bruce_. Slade was going to be nothing but a roadblock in his way when he got out of here. “I can get my own revenge,” he hissed, no longer caring if he enraged the man.

“An honorable notion,” Slade approved. “But one should never waste opportunity. You want revenge? You want to be better than Batman? I can teach you. I can give you that. All I ask in return is for you to agree to be apprentice. It’s quite an honor. You’re the first I’ve ever extended this offer to.”

Slade appeared to think he’d won the argument. He hadn’t, not even close. He wasn’t going to allow himself to become Slade’s slave. He needed more training, but he didn’t need Slade. There were other ways. 

All his unease about the approaching fight vanished, replaced with blazing confidence. He couldn’t lose here. If death herself couldn’t stop him from getting his revenge then Slade didn’t stand a chance. He was going to make it out of this. Joker was going to die. And Bruce was going to pay. The whispers and green specks were but a minor annoyance. 

Jason spoke just loud enough to be heard over the rain. “Well, I feel sorry for whatever poor soul is your second choice, because you’ll never have me.”

“Oh, Jason,” Slade sighed mockingly. “I’m afraid no isn’t an answer.”

Jason barely had time to process what happened next.

Slade’s hand moved, and Jason’s eyes caught a telltale glint of something metallic. He reacted instinctively.

Slade had made a grave error in underestimating him. When he looked at Jason, the bastard saw a weak and wounded child. So Slade was unprepared for Jason’s swift lunge and abnormal strength even for a healthy body.

The needle was shoved back from its intended target towards Slade’s own body. It plunged into Slade’s opposite arm, piercing through the thinner material by his wrists. The liquid inside the vial lost half of its contents to Slade’s bloodstream.

Slade swore and immediately shoved Jason stumbling back. As Jason scrambled for footing on the wet, rocky ground, Slade yanked the needle out of his arm and threw it into the murky shadows of the rocks. The assassin’s earlier composure had crumbled and given way to cold fury.

Well, fuck.

Regaining his footing, Jason drew his sword and rushed at the bigger man. He might be able to get a few hits in before Slade recentered himself. Jason wasn’t under any illusions that this was going to be an easy fight. Even with Slade drugged and Jason juiced up with pit strength, Slade was a dangerous adversary.

As Jason swung his blade, Slade’s blade came to meet it, the two weapons colliding with a clang. They began to battle fiercely, the hissing and clanging of blades ringing through the night. 

Right away, Jason noted that Slade wasn’t as fast or as coordinated as he would normally be. The drug was definitely taking effect. He could also see that the arm that had the injection point wasn’t moving right, so that was where he focused his attacks.

The strategy was effective, and though Jason wasn’t landing any serious hits, he was inflicting more damage than Slade.

But even the best strategies could be foiled by a small mistake.

Slade’s fist crashed into the side of Jason’s head, sending Jason reeling as pain exploded through his head and his vision temporarily blinked out. He would have tumbled to the ground had it not been for the large rock jutting from the earth that he used to catch himself. The green, black fog cleared a second later, but Jason didn’t have a second to spare. 

His eyes immediately zeroed in on the vial that had appeared in Slade’s hand. It was a different color than what Slade had attempted to stab him with earlier. Shit. Shit, that was probably the antidote. 

Panic coursed through his already burning blood at the possibility of losing an advantage he couldn’t afford to lose in an already unbalanced fight. Without a fully formed plan, Jason snarled and snatched one of the bigger stones speckling the ground and launched it at Slade with his pit enhanced strength. Jason followed the stone close behind.

The rock didn’t hit the vial, but it did graze Slade’s shoulder as he dodged, and it delayed Slade in administering the antidote. That extra second gave Jason the time he needed to reach Slade.

Jason came down on the man with ferocity of an enraged beast. He lashed out with one of his knives and his sword simultaneously, attacking the assassin from two angles, forcing Slade to defend himself.

With a quick movement, Jason’s knife struck out at the menacing vial, cracking it. The bluish liquid spilled out, dissolving into the puddle at their feet.

Annoyance flashed across Slade’s face. Not worry or anger. Annoyance. Like he was a child throwing a tantrum. Like there was only one way this could end.

Slade’s eyes narrowed down on him. “You’re only delaying the inevitable,” he said coolly, dodging Jason’s attack then striking back with terrifying precision. “This little dispute is only going to start off your apprenticeship on a bad note.”

Jason ignored the pain from the new gash in his previously less injured arm, his brain hardly even registering it. He let out a low growl. “I.” Swipe. “Will.” Quick dodge. “Never.” Stalled strike. “Be.” Forced back. “Your.” Dodge around. “Apprentice.” A hit landed.

It was a superficial wound, nothing Slade couldn’t shake off. Fuck, this was going nowhere. He’d been hoping Slade would get slower the longer the battle went on, the drug further sabotaging his body, but that wasn’t happening. And of the two of them, Jason was far more likely to slip up than the near legendary assassin. Plus there was a whole clan of assassins lurking somewhere nearby who could show up any second. It all painted a very grim picture for Jason.

As their clash continued, too violent and sporadic to be considered a dance, Jason desperately racked his brain for a way to escape. The green writhing at the edges of his mind didn’t help. All either of them needed was one mistake. One slipup.

Jason was almost destined to fail. One misstep paired with the slippery ground. A slight miscalculation. Slade didn’t waste his opportunity.

Slade’s hand shot forward and seized Jason’s wrist with a grip like iron. A vicious twist forced Jason to drop the sword. It was immediately followed with a knee to the stomach. Jason couldn’t keep down the mangled cry of pain that escaped his lips. He didn’t know exactly what happened in that moment, but when he caught up with his surroundings again his knife was gone and he was being pressed up against something hard. A rock, he realized dimly. 

He glared up at his oppressor, blue and green tinged eyes alight with fury. A stark contrast to Slade’s calm eyes and smug expression. Jason didn’t bother struggling, it was useless. He might be stronger than Slade at the moment, he could feel the pit pounding in his blood, but Slade had weapons and one of Jason’s arms was nearing unusable. 

The green seethed in defiance, screaming to give into the rage, but Jason fought against it. Like hell was he going to allow himself to black out again to wake up in a cage or some other ghastly situation in God knows where with no idea what transpired between point A and point B. He couldn’t be a prisoner again, he couldn’t! He couldn’t go back to the dark and the pain and Slade was going to do horrific things to try to force him into submission. There had to be-

“Well,” Slade’s voice cut through his frantic thoughts, “It appears our little duel is at its end. You did quite well, especially given your pitiful condition.” The assassin leaned his face down closer to Jason’s. “You still leave much to be desired, but your potential is as great as I had hoped. That attitude of yours is an issue, but that can be dealt with. Under me you will have a glorious apprenticeship.” The pleased, greedy glint in the man’s eyes and the condescension in his voice had Jason snarling. He’d tear Slade limb from bloody limb if given half the chance. But escaping was his main priority at the moment. 

He needed a weapon and he needed on fast. His own were too far away to do him any good. Slade had sheathed one of his swords to better pin Jason, but the other was still out and while not pressed right up against his throat, it was still far too close for comfort. What were his chances of taking one of Slade’s weapons? Not great. Pretty bad actually. He could see a knife on Slade’s belt, but the odds of him being able to take that were worse than the sword. 

Icy dread pooled in Jason’s gut as Slade raised his fist. He had less than two seconds before Slade knocked him out and his hopes were lost to him.

The shift in the air was subtle, but they both felt it and stilled.

From his position, Jason could see around Slade to the trees where shadows were slinking closer and a second later voices could be heard, just loud enough to be heard above the rain, but intelligible at this distance. He could register that the voices were excited and maybe surprised. 

The League had finally gotten their shit together. 

Slade’s eyes snapped from calm to furious in an instant. For all Slade claimed about not caring about Ra’s, he clearly didn’t want the ancient megalomaniac knowing he’d betrayed him and stolen one of his prized prisoners.

What happened next was almost miraculous. The drug coursing through Slade’s bloodstream was probably to blame for his lapse in judgement. Slade turned his head away from Jason to scan for the approaching threats. His grip slackened just the slightest bit. It was the last and best chance Jason was going to get.

Without hesitation, Jason surged forward pushing himself off the rock, dropping down and kicking Slade’s feet out from under him. As Slade fell, Jason straightened, grabbing the knife off Slade’s belt as he went. Dodging Slade’s sword, Jason went straight for the throat.

He missed.

The knife sunk into Slade’s right eye with a squelching sound. His howl of pain tore through the air.

Jason didn’t have time to process anything beyond vicious satisfaction before Slade shoved him back. The knife came with him, leaving a bleeding hole in Slade’s face. A bleeding hole that wouldn’t kill him.

Fuck.

Well, he sure as hell wasn’t sticking around. Losing an eye seemed to actually be deterring Slade, but Jason wasn’t stupid. He’d bought himself a few seconds at best. At least Slade would have a harder time aiming at him as he fled now. 

Jason booked it for the water. It was his best chance to lose them. The rain was getting harder. Good, that would make it easier to lose them. He’d either swim to the opposite shore or hijack a boat. 

The last glimpse he got of Slade, the man was clutching at his eye, turning to face the Shadows that were fast approaching him from behind. Then rocks blocked his vision and he saw no more.

It took less than thirty seconds for him to reach the cliffside. Waves crashed beneath him, dark and uncertain, but clear of rocks. Jason didn’t hesitate to jump.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason gets a new suit.

A few months later…

Titans Tower looked just as stupid as it always did.

Jason had never understood why Dick chose to have such a conspicuous base. Hiding came naturally to Jason. In Crime Alley, the ability to hide was one of the things that kept you alive. You didn’t give out your home address unless you wanted your throat slit or your ass kidnapped. Having a stupid T-shaped tower that literally everyone knew housed a team of superhero teens was insane. It wasn’t like Dick didn’t know how superhero hideouts were supposed to work, the Cave was hidden. Almost no one knew its location and because of that, it had felt safe. But no, Dick had gone with the obvious T-shaped skyscraper, broadcasting his and his friends’ location to the world. It boggled the mind.

At least he’d put it on an island, but even that had its drawbacks. Wasn’t sure how they got their vehicles to the mainland (maybe a tunnel, but if there was one, Jason didn’t know where it was), but it did make sneaking up on them a lot harder.

The swim hadn’t been bad, but the distance paired with the fact that there was zero cover in any direction had made reaching the tower unseen slightly more difficult. He’d had to wait for the cover of darkness before he attempted. He could have made it in daylight had he had the proper equipment, but this whole trip had been rather spontaneous, so he hadn’t had time to fully prepare.

Maybe this was a little _too_ spontaneous.

Jason shifted a bit, his damp clothes brushing ever so slightly against the bush he was currently concealed in. He eyed the tower warily. Now that he was actually here, he was having serious second thoughts about his going to see Dick plan.

The past few months had been hard. Laying low while still taking out the occasional scumbag, the dark whispers, the nightmares, his physical recovery, constantly moving from place to place. He hadn’t even tried to return to Gotham yet, that would have been the first place Ra’s looked. Not that he’d wanted to go back to Gotham right away anyway. He didn’t want to risk any chance of running into Batman before he was ready. Jason had a plan, of course, he’d had months to plot the perfect revenge. He’d seen it all unfold in his mind a million times now. It was the main driving force behind everything he did, but he wasn’t ready yet. He needed to be as good as- no, better than Batman before he could put his plan into motion. That would take time and training. He couldn’t screw it up. He’d waited this long, he could wait a little longer.

The League of Assassins had been his biggest and most annoying obstacle. The fuckers made it impossible to move around freely. He was fairly certain Ra’s had given up by this point though. They’d probably go for him if they saw him, but he didn’t think they were actively hunting him anymore. Jason suspected that Ra’s, realizing that a new slave was off the table, had opted to just let Jason loose to mess with Batman. Jason was fine with that so long as he stayed out of his way.

Slade, unfortunately, was an entirely different story. The psycho was obsessive as fuck and there was no way he’d gotten over the whole rejection and eye thing. God, he was proud of that. Even though he’d been aiming for his throat and he would have preferred killing him, Jason still got vicious satisfaction in knowing he’d left his mark. Jason wasn’t sure if Slade would still try to force him to be his apprentice or just kill him on sight, but Jason wasn’t eager to find out. 

After months of being on the run with no way to get a real job or even a semi-permanent home, Jason’s patience was reaching its limit. He needed to actually _do_ something. To start taking steps into forwarding his plans. But there was only so much he could do without drawing unwanted attention. He needed some way of attaining his goals without having to worry that Slade would find out and come swooping down to drag him off to some unspeakable fate.

That wasn’t why he was here though.

Jason was here to see Dick. Not the smartest move in the world. Really, he should turn back now. But as much as he loathed Bruce, he didn’t hate Dick. 

The older boy had been an ass when Jason first arrived, but the two of them had eventually warmed up to each other. And Jason didn’t particularly blame Dick for anything. He’d never expected Dick to save him nor did he expect to kill the Joker. No, that obviously should have been Bruce’s job.

Not that Dick was completely blameless.

Dick apparently hadn’t attended his funeral, that was a slap to the face and a stab to the heart. All the news outlets, the fucking vultures, had raved over Richie Grayson not attending his street trash little brother’s funeral. The wild stories they’d concocted ranged from amusing to disturbing. But one, constant, undeniable fact that linked them all was that Dick hadn’t been there.

When Jason had first learned of this, he’d been furious and deeply hurt. Seriously, it wasn’t that much to ask. However, he’d had time to cool off from that initial anger. Once he’d sat down and really thought about it, it didn’t make sense that Dick hadn’t been there. Even if Dick had secretly despised him, he still would have been at the funeral, if only for his reputation. So Jason clung onto the hope that there was a good reason for Dick’s absence. Maybe there had been a life or death situation going down at the same time and Dick had to not be there. He’d never been able to find any evidence that this was the case, but Jason only had access to so many resources. If someone’s life had been in danger, Jason couldn’t judge him too harshly. He could forgive him for that. Because that had to be the reason. Dick couldn’t be like Bruce. His stupid, touchy feely, older brother couldn’t secretly hate him, or worse, simply not care about him.

Somebody must have cared.

Maybe it was that need for answers that had led Jason to come here. It might also have something to do with his thirst for real human interaction and near overwhelming weight of loneliness. ‘ _Weak_.’ The whispers were the only company he had most days and it wasn’t exactly pleasant. He’d hoped the pit’s side effects would fade over time, but so far that wasn’t really happening. And he wasn’t sure if he could attribute what little difference there was to time or just being in a less stressful situation.

Jason eyed the tower critically, debating what was the best entry point. Despite that his brother was leader of the Titans, Jason had never visited him at the tower. The team had still been pretty new when Jason had died and Jump City wasn’t exactly close to Gotham. He had a very basic knowledge of the tower’s layout from hazy memories of seeing the tower’s plans and having talked about it with Dick. The important thing was he knew exactly where Dick’s room was.

Teal eyes narrowed as he mapped out his break in. Lucky for him, he had the advantage of there being no one home at the moment. He’d watched as they’d all raced towards the city, and a quick check to the local news revealed a bank robbery was in progress. So nothing dire, but supposedly the thief was a meta of some kind. It could be over quick or the clash could drag out. There was also the possibility that they’d lose the guy and come back early to use their equipment to track the meta down. Basically, he had no solid time frame to work with, so acting fast was his best opinion.

Getting in proved to be more difficult than he’d thought it would be. He’d been expecting Wayne tech and there definitely was Wayne tech, he flew through that easy, but there was also some tech he wasn’t familiar with. Probably from the cyborg dude. Didn’t stop him from getting what he wanted.

As Jason slid through the tower’s dark hallways, his nerves became more and more agitated. And of course Dick’s bedroom was on the top floor, so he had plenty of time to stew.

His stomach was twisting nervously in his gut. There were just so many things that could go wrong. What if Dick’s friends saw him? What if Dick freaked out? People didn’t tend to come back from the dead. Jason didn’t even have an explanation to give him. What if Dick told Bruce? The mere thought was almost enough to turn him back, but he’d already come this far. He was _inside_ Titans Tower. He couldn’t have come all this way just to chicken out last second. Dick would understand, right? And it wasn’t like he had to tell Dick the whole truth. This could work.

‘ _It won’t._ ’

Letting out a quiet groan, Jason gave his head a firm shake as if that would somehow clear his head. He shoved down his nerves and made his way to the elevator.

After a quick inspection, he was relieved to find it usable. Climbing up a skyscraper’s worth of stairs would have been a pain. This would be much faster. He just had to cut the camera inside the elevator for roughly a minute. They wouldn’t even notice.

As Jason ascended, he couldn’t help but wonder at the size of the place. There was no way they were using all this space, it was total overkill. It was only five teenagers, they didn’t need a huge, incredibly obvious, t-shaped skyscraper.

Stepping out of the elevator he was greeted with three options. Option 1: Straight ahead to the Ops room. Option 2: Right hallway. Option 3: Left hallway. He was confident that Dick’s bedroom was to the left. He knew this floor’s layout better than any of the others.

A part of him was tempted to poke around a bit, maybe snoop into Dick’s friends a little, but the other part of him was already so anxious that he didn’t want to take the risk of being in the wrong place when they returned.

Dick’s room wasn’t quite what he’d been expecting. But really, he shouldn’t have been expecting something like his room at the manor. No circus stuff or any of those more personal things. Had Dick told them his secret identity? He didn’t think so. At least not while Jason had been alive.

Closing the door softly behind him, Jason went and sat on the edge of Dick’s bed, surveying the room. A lot of blue. Dick had always liked blue. And yet that was practically the only color he hadn’t added to the color vomit that was the Robin suit. Because that made sense. And it wasn’t like blue was a stealthier color than bright yellow or anything. Because everyone knows that circus colors are designed to blend in with their surroundings.

Dick’s nonexistent fashion sense aside, there wasn’t a lot in here. He hadn’t been expecting any family photos, but Jason was a little disappointed that Dick didn’t seem to have anything to remind him of his dead little brother. There wasn’t anything relating to Bruce or Batman or even Alfred either though, so maybe Dick just had that stuff hidden away. That was probably it.

Something interesting, however, did catch his eye. On a desk next to some papers and a discarded birdarang (stupid Dick and his stupid names) was a laptop.

Jason eyed the device, curiosity perking up within him. Another check to the local news confirmed that the Titans were still in pursuit of the criminal. So Dick wasn’t going to be walking through the door within the next few minutes. He might feel more secure about seeing Dick again if he had a better idea of what had been going on with him lately. And he was curious.

Jason crossed the room and opened the laptop. The screen booted up, casting light across the dark room. Hmm. A password, but that was to be expected, Dick wasn’t a total idiot.

Thrumming his fingers on the wood of the desk, Jason stared thoughtfully at the screen. Could he still..? It was worth a try. He typed _the1a5tf1yingGray50n_ into the input box. The computer opened to a home page with a royal blue background that had the Titans’ symbol in the center.

Jason let out a snort. Dick hadn’t changed his password even after all this time? Good grief, he’d figured out Dick’s password ages ago. It was a rather exposing password if anyone figured it out, but originally there had been no numbers, so it used to be worse.

Sliding into the swivel chair, Jason began going through the files and case reports. He scrolled around clicking on anything that looked like it might be relevant. Which was a bit difficult since he wasn’t sure what he was considering relevant right now. He mostly just clicked on things that sounded or looked interesting.

There was some interesting information on Dick’s friends. The magic girl had a lot of weird shit. Pretty though. He assumed Dick had a thing for the alien girl, Dick had a fetish for redheads and she seemed nice enough. And Dick had blushed when he first told him about her, though he refused to explain himself when Jason pestered him. 

The Titans had some weird villains, not quite Gotham levels of weird, but still weird. As Jason scrolled through the names, one jumped out at him. At first, he thought that he was just seeing things, that his mind was playing tricks on him. But he blinked and it was still there. His blood ran cold and his heart started to thump as his mouth instinctively curled into a snarl.

Slade.

Why the _fuck_ was Slade in Dick’s villain database? And why was his file so large?

Jason wasn’t sure how long he spent reading the files, but by the time he was done he was seeing green at the edges of his vision.

What the fuck?

Slade was gunning for Dick now? Why? Was this some kind of butthurt revenge scheme or a ploy to lure Jason out of hiding? He truly hadn’t thought he could hate the man more than he already did, but here he was being proven wrong. Just by the way Dick wrote the files Jason could tell how much Dick absolutely loathed the man. That Slade had gotten his claws into Dick even for a short time was enough to make Jason want to hunt the piece of human shit down and rip out his other eye before tearing his fucking throat out.

Jason shoved himself away from the table and began to swiftly pace back and forth across the room in an attempt to calm down. It didn’t help much, but it did take some of the edge off his rage.

He couldn’t see Dick now.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Oh, who was he kidding? He was never going to see Dick. He’d already been at the ends of his nerves when he first entered Dick’s room. He would have fled already if the laptop hadn’t distracted him. This whole trip had been nothing but an emotional, irrational whim. Even if by some miracle he did manage to convince Dick not to tell Bruce he was alive, Dick would never support the killing. He actually bought into Bruce’s stupid, selfish no killing rule. Dick was never going to side with him.

“Fuck,” Jason whispered, opening his eyes and taking out his phone to check the news again. The guy hadn’t been turned in to the police yet, but they’d lost track of both the Titans and the criminal. Ok, he still had some time, but probably not a lot of time. This wasn’t a wasted trip, he could still salvage this.

He returned to the computer and began erasing any evidence of tampering. He was only about a third of the way through when he paused, the mouse hovering over one of the Slade files.

Red X.

He’d skipped over reading the suit’s schematics in favor of the more Slade related stuff, but now that he’d gotten what he wanted on that front, the suit stood out more. When and where had Dick gotten his short lived sense of style? That Dick had designed a cool suit just did not compute. And now, thinking back on it, he remembered Dick writing that it had some pretty sweet tech. Why make such a badass looking suit at the cutting edge of technology for one mission, then never use it again?

Jason cocked an eyebrow as he began reading through the notes and schematics. Xenothium? Well, well, well, he hadn’t known Dickie was capable of such naughtiness. That shit was unstable, but it packed a punch. And the stuff Dick had been able to do with it! Why the hell wasn’t he using this instead? Or at least add some of the tech to the Robin suit. Sure, it was potentially dangerous, but so long as you weren’t an idiot and you used it properly, you’d be fine. It had short range _teleportation_. How could someone not want to use something that cool? Jason had gone so long without a proper suit and here was Dick just wasting one. He’d do almost anything to get his hands on a suit like this. It would make his life so much easier.

Wait.

He raised an eyebrow, glanced upwards, then back towards the screen, an idea beginning to form in his head. Dick must still have the suit, the Xenothium power core was too dangerous to destroy.

Skipping back to the bottom of the Red X file, he discovered Dick was storing the suit in a vault a few floors down. It was just sitting in there. Gathering dust.

It deserved a more appreciative owner.

Jason pulled a flash drive out of his jacket pocket (always be prepared) and plugged it into the drive. He set the Red X files, Slade files, and some of Dick’s teammates’ files, those might be useful at some point, to download. The estimated time was about three minutes. While the download progressed, Jason kept an eye on the news for any updates. 

He had horrible timing. Just as the download was completed and Jason was ejecting the flash drive, it was announced that the villain had been caught and turned over to the police. They could be back within fifteen minutes. 

A rush of adrenaline spiked through Jason’s body as he raced against time. With the skill and speed that came with experience, he wiped any evidence of tampering from the system before shutting the laptop and placing both it and the chair exactly where they had been when he had first entered. Another few seconds to smooth out the wrinkles he’d made in Dick’s bed and then he was out of Dick’s room booking for the vault as fast as he possibly could.

He could technically just leave, but he’d pumped himself up now, he was too invested in this plan to flee now. He was 110% committed to getting that suit, despite that 110% was scientifically impossible. That was how committed he was. He really needed a proper suit and this one came with a built-in identity and everything. Dick owed him for not showing up to his funeral anyways. This was karma if anything. And the suit was so his style he had to wonder if had Dick had been thinking about him when he designed it. This was basically destiny. 

The vault, though fancy looking, was nowhere near as secure as he’d been expecting. Dick clearly wasn’t expecting anyone to try and steal the suit. There was one camera pointing at the room’s entrance that was easily dealt with, no camera in the smaller side room that actually housed the vault. All that was required for access was a numeric code and the security system was very basic. He knew if he had the time, he would have been able to just hack his way in. 

But he didn’t have that kind of time, so explosives it was.

It was fairly easy to disarm the alarm system. Honestly, he understood why Dick had been so lax with security. The vault was already in a high security base, very few people even knew the suit existed, and of those who did almost no one knew Red X had been Robin. Having your previously dead little brother break into your house and steal your clothes wasn’t really a scenario many people planned for.

He’d grabbed some of Dick’s spare smaller explosives from one of his stashes on the way here. They’d been piled in a box in what had appeared to be some kind of lab area so he’d snagged a few. Explosives were always a useful thing to have.

It took less than thirty seconds for him rig the explosives to the vault’s hinges. He then moved to the opposite end of the room, covered his ears with his hands, and pressed the trigger. The bright flash and boom rocked the air, but unless the Titans were already on the island, there was no one to hear it.

The vault door didn’t immediately fall off, but a hearty shove was all it took to send the thick metal crashing to the floor. Definitely not the most clandestine way to go about it, but since there was no camera in here, Dick probably wasn’t even going to notice for a while. The vault was the only thing in this room, so the odds of Dick randomly coming into the room were pretty slim.

And there it was.

A wide grin split Jason’s face as he reached out to gather the suit. It looked even cooler in person (seriously, there was no way Dick designed this). The colors, the style, the Xs (he was going to make so many X puns, he could already see it), the overall badassness. And that wasn’t even factoring in all the crazy tech.

The rush of joy he was getting from doing from this was something he could not fully explain. But this was the most excited he’d been over something in a long time, so he wasn’t going to question it too much. He just knew that this was going to be amazing.

He quickly took each piece off the display, checking each one off the checklist he had in his head from the schematics. Using the belt to bind it all together, he tucked the suit beneath his jacket.

His prize obtained, Jason made for the nearest exit. No point in sticking around. He was almost to the beach when the Titans finally showed up. They didn’t notice him hiding among a cluster of rocks. Didn’t even look his way as far as he could tell.

Once they were inside, Jason got into the water and began swimming to shore. He’d already come out in a way that put him on the side of the tower with the least windows. And even if they did look out it was dark and Jason was only just breaking the surface of the water when he came up for air. It was extremely unlikely that they would see him unless they were actively looking for him.

As Jason pulled himself out onto the opposite shore, he was hit by a wave of satisfaction. He looked back out towards Titan’s Tower and grinned.

Maybe he didn’t accomplish what he had originally come out here to do, but that plan had been dumb from the start. Getting this suit was the best thing to happen to him in a long, _long_ time.

This was going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. :) It'll probably be a while before I put up the next story in this series, but it will happen eventually.
> 
> On a side note: Originally, I didn’t have Jason blowing the vault door off, I had him doing it another way, but then I rewatched the episode and realized the entire vault door was laying on the floor when Robin goes to check on the suit. There was no sign of an explosion, but the entire, huge, metal door was just lying on the ground. So changes were made.

**Author's Note:**

> So I always was in the Red X is Jason Todd boat. And I also always had a head cannon that Jason was the one who took out Slade’s eye. It also explains a little of why Slade would go after Robin after he failed to get Jason. How he lost his eye. Explain a little about why he’s so hellbent on getting a perfect and obedient apprentice. Damaged pride and all that. And really Jason is a much better apprentice fit for Slade. He’s come back from the dead so he’s interesting, he’s highly skilled, already willing to get his hands dirty.
> 
> Also, this is the most violent Jason will be for the most part. He’s still pretty high on Lazarus Pit here and has been under a continuous stress and anger. Everything else from here out will be a lot more lighthearted. Also, Jason won’t be as strong as he was in this chapter. He will get stronger if he gets a Lazarus fit, but it won’t be as often or as extreme.
> 
> If anyone has any advice on how to write fights, I'll take it. It is so much harder than I thought it would be. You can see a fight in your head, but putting it on paper is tough. I hope this fight scene was good.


End file.
